


a truth so loud you can't ignore

by gleesquid



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Pining, friends crossing boundaries in a friendly way, weird threesome sex dreams, x-men o5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:32:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: “Say a person – a guy – has a sex dream about two of his friends – also guys. And it’s, like. Totally hot, and he wakes up, and has, you know, relieved himself. Does that make him gay?”Hank didn’t even look up from the lame book he was reading. “Bobby, if you’re having sex dreams about your friends, perhaps –,”“Wait, what?” Bobby yelled. “I’m not having sex dreams about anyone! How dare you!”Or: Bobby isn't gay, except for all the ways he totally is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is dumb fluff about gay Bobby loosely set after issue # 16 of X-Men: First Class, where Bobby and Johnny briefly form their own team and live together. You don't have to read that to read this -- it can be kind of a vague AU. But you should totally read it at some point because it's GREAT with the O5 and the art is pretty. 
> 
> title from troye sivan's "youth" because who needs creativity

Bobby was definitely _not_ gay. He didn’t care what Hank said.

“I am not making any implications about your sexuality, Robert,” said Hank. “I was merely inquiring about whether you could please hand me back my shirt.”

Oh, shit.

“Did I say that out loud?” Bobby asked. “I was distracted by your pecs, man.”

Hank raised an eyebrow.

“Not in a gay way! It’s only that – they’re freaking huge! Like sometimes I get distracted by your feet because they’re so huge. Every part of you is so – huge!”

Hank’s other eyebrow joined the first. Bobby soldiered on.

“I’m not talking about your dick, man, not that – not that it’s _not_ huge because I’m sure it is –,”

That was when Jean walked in.

“Whose dick is huge?” she asked. “Oh, hi, Hank. Are we talking about Hank? Because of course Hank’s dick is huge, every part of him is huge.”

“See, that’s what I’m saying!” huffed Bobby. “No need to make it weird.”

“Why are you shirtless?” Jean asked. She levitated a bowl from the cupboard over to the table, followed by Lucky Charms. “We eat here, that’s completely unsanitary. Bobby, give him his shirt back, why would you take his shirt?”

“I didn’t _take_ his shirt. If you must know, I spilled my orange juice on his shirt and he took it off to wipe up some of the mess, since it was already orange juicy, and then I wound up with it.”

“Good thing you didn’t spill anything on his pants,” said Jean. She levitated all of the non-marshmallow parts of the Lucky Charms out of her bowl and let them clatter to the table.

“Must you?” Hank sighed.

“I really must,” Jean said.

“G’morning,” yawned Warren, entering the kitchen in nothing but low-hanging sweatpants. He reached his hands above his head so that every muscle in his six-pack flexed. “What’s hot?”

 _You,_ Bobby thought in a breathy sigh.

No wait. That definitely wasn’t him. His thinking voice wasn’t quite so girly – it was, arguably, far more masculine than his speaking voice. He narrowed his eyes at Jean and saw Hank doing the same.

 _Keep your pervy thoughts out of my head_ , Bobby thought loudly. Jean gave no sign of having heard. Freaking telepaths.

“Lookin’ good, McCoy,” said Warren. He patted one of Hank’s pecs as he passed. “You should show those babies off more often.”

“Thank you, Warren,” said Hank. “Jean, why is it not unsanitary for Warren to walk around shirtless? The man does have wings.”

“And it would be cruel of me to ask him to conceal those wings any longer than he already has to,” said Jean, around a spoonful of marshmallows.

“Aw, Jeannie. You’re a sweetheart.” Warren leaned forward and kissed Jean’s cheek. She flushed as red as her hair. Bobby’s eyes nearly popped out from being rolled so hard.

Scott marched in, wearing a dorky vest over a dorky button down, with his dorky red glasses, and his dorky hair perfectly combed in a very dorky fashion.

“Hank, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Scott said as he took a seat next to Jean. She levitated a bowl and spoon over to him and he poured himself some Lucky Charms. “It’s unsanitary.”

“But it is perfectly healthy for the winged man to walk around shirtless?” Hank demanded.

“Of course,” said Scott. “It would be cruel to ask Warren to cover his wings.”

Warren cooed. “Aw, Scott.”

Bobby was about to mcfreakin’ lose it.

“If you need me, I’ll be in my room,” he announced. “Here’s your shirt, Hank.”

As he left the room, Bobby heard Scott ask, “Why did Bobby have Hank’s shirt?” to which Jean answered, “Orange juice.”

“Ah,” Scott said, and Bobby thought that about summed it up.

 

 

“And then Warren goes, ‘Aww, Scottie poo, you’re the sweetest pumpkin pie ever, I could eat you all up.’ Give me a break, right? One day he’s like, ‘I hate you, Summers, and I’m gonna steal your girlfriend’ who is, admittedly, way too good for him, and the next he’s all ‘I’m Dr. McDreamy and I’ve come down with a case of _you_.’ Like, what is up with that?”

“I’m confused,” Johnny said over the phone. “If Warren is Dr. McDreamy, he wouldn’t be the one with a case of anything, right?”

“Oh my god, Johnny, that is so not the point.”

“Then what is the point? That Warren’s gay? Or is it Hank?”

“Neither of them are gay!” cried Bobby.

“Then who’s gay?”

“No one! _That’s_ the point. Hank was _implying_ that I was gay because I was admiring his pecs which are seriously, like, huge. But anyone would admire those. Even Warren admired then and I’m telling you, Warren _gets around._ ” He thought for a moment. “Is that considered slut-shaming? Can you slut-shame a guy? Jean always gives me these lectures about how to treat women, and there was a big no slut-shaming rule, but she didn’t tell me if it applied to guys.”

Bobby waited for Johnny to make a joke, or laugh, or _something_ , but he remained weirdly quiet. Bobby spun around in his swivel chair.

“Johnny boy? Hello? You still with us?”

“I made out with Spider-Man.”

Bobby froze. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. It was a while ago. Heat of the moment kind of thing. And Spidey’s always got, like, five girls that he's bouncing between at any moment so I guess I caught him on an off day?” Johnny gave a strained laugh. “So um. Yeah.”

Bobby spun in a slow circle on the swivel chair.

“So,” he said when the silence was getting way too heavy. “Does that mean you’re, like. Gay?”

“Um, bi, I think. I like girls, you know? _A lot._ But, um, sometimes I like boys a lot, too?”

“Okay,” said Bobby. It sounded choked to his own ears.

“Are you freaking out?” Johnny asked. “Don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Bobby said, voice about three octaves higher than normal.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” said Johnny. “I thought – I don’t know, we’re friends, right? I thought maybe you should know.”

Bobby took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was even. “Thank you for telling, Johnny. Honest. It means a lot that you trust me.”

“Yeah, well.” Johnny laughed again, and it almost wasn’t awkward this time. “Iceman and the Torch, you know? We’re two halves of the same coin.”

“I think it’s two sides of the same coin.”

“Whatever, nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd! I just live with nerds!" 

“So do I, and you don’t see me picking up their nerd language.”

Bobby laughed so hard he fell over, even though it really wasn’t that funny.

 

 

“Iceman, look out!” yelled Spider-Man. To save him from the falling comet, Spider-Man webbed Bobby to his bed. Bobby struggled, but the webbing was tight.

“I could have handled that,” said Bobby.

“Sure you could have,” said a new voice. Bobby turned his head to see Johnny walking through his bedroom door. His golden hair fluttered from the breeze that sifted through the comet-shaped hole in the ceiling. He wore Warren’s low-hanging sweatpants and one of Scott’s dorky shirts, but it was completely unbuttoned so that Bobby could see Johnny’s lean chest and pink nipples. Something stirred deep within Bobby’s core.

“Johnny,” Bobby said. “What are you doing here?”

“Spidey called me,” said Johnny. “He said you were causing trouble again. That you need to be punished."

And then Johnny was rolling up Spider-Man’s mask and they were kissing. Bobby could see their lips moving together. He could hear Spider-Man’s deep moans and Johnny’s breathy sighs. Bobby wanted to watch them forever. He wanted to touch them.

“Mm, like what you see?” asked Johnny as Spider-Man moved to kiss his neck. “I have a surprise for you.”

Johnny reached up and pulled off Spider-Man’s mask. It was Hank.

Hank gave Bobby a predatory grin before he went back to kissing Johnny with even more vigor than before. Bobby was still webbed to the bed, but he felt like the kiss was shooting sparks straight through him. Hank was so much _bigger_ than Johnny and it showed when Johnny ran his lithe hands down Hank’s thick chest, his abs, down, down, down until he grabbed Hank’s _huge –_  

Bobby’s eyes shot open. He took a moment to breathe before carefully checking under the covers. His boxers were stained wet.

Ah, shit.

 

 

“How do people know if they’re gay?” Bobby asked.

Hank rifled through a huge stack of books, most of which definitely had nothing to do with being gay. Bobby would appreciate a little attention, thank you very much.

“There isn’t a single universal gay experience,” Hank said absently. “Even among animals, how one expresses sexual attraction differs greatly. Many report to have known they were gay since they were young children, while others don’t realize until they are well into adulthood.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, big words, I get it.”

“Exactly which one of those words are you struggling with?”

“Don’t patronize me, Hank, you’re better than that.” Bobby took a tentative sip of his strawberry lemonade that Scott had so kindly brewed due to the hot day. Okay, new tactics. “Say a person – a guy – has a sex dream about two of his friends – also guys. And it’s, like. Totally hot, and he wakes up, and has, you know, _relieved_ himself. Does that make him gay?”

Hank didn’t even look up from the lame book he was reading. “Bobby, if you’re having sex dreams about your friends, perhaps –,”

“Wait, _what_?” Bobby yelled. “ _I’m_ not having sex dreams about anyone! How dare you!”

Hank sighed. “I was simply going to say that perhaps it is indicative of repressed feelings –,”

“This conversation absolutely isn’t worth my time.” 

“And _perhaps_ it would be more productive for you to talk to an actual therapist –,” 

“Nope, I’ve heard enough, good day!” 

In his rush to get up, Bobby flung his strawberry lemonade around, dumping most of it right onto Hank’s shirt.

Hank sighed. Bobby stared. 

“Do you, um . . .” He cleared his throat. “Do you need me to hold your shirt?”

Hank looked up and Bobby bolted from the library.

 

 

“So . . . Warren,” Bobby said. “Double-Double-U-the-Third. WWW dot com. What’s up, my man?”

Warren looked up, face shadowed by sunglasses. He was stretched out on the lawn, shirtless as ever. His beautiful wings fluttered mindlessly over him.

It almost hurt to look at him, he was so pretty.

“Hey, Bobby,” said Warren. “What can I do for you?”

_Just sit there. Maybe take off your pants, too._

Bobby looked around for Jean, thinking she’d put her thoughts in his head again, but he couldn’t find her.

Damn it. That meant he thought Warren was hot.

“You’ve, uh. You’ve had a lot of girlfriends, right?”

“Sure,” said Warren. His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “The best money can buy.”

Bobby frowned. “Are you talking about prostitutes?”

“What – no!”

“Because it sounds like you’re talking about prostitutes.”

Warren sighed. “What did you want, Bobby?”

“Oh, yeah, well, I was wondering, how do you know if you like a girl?”

A handsome grin spread across Warren’s dumb, handsome face.

“Who’s this about?” he asked.

“No one!” said Bobby. “God, why does everyone think I’m talking _about_ someone?”

“Let me guess. The barista from the coffee shop? Or that girl we saved from those Russian hackers?”

“No, it’s –,”

“Johnny Storm?”

Bobby staggered backward. “ _No_ – what are you even – Johnny’s cute, but – I mean, he’s good-looking, objectively, but – he’s a _boy_!”

“So?” asked Warren.

“ _So_ I’m straight.”

Warren rolled onto his back so that Bobby could see all his abs. He counted to make sure they were still there. There might have even been a little baby one growing anew.

“Heterosexuality is overrated,” Warren said, white wings startling across green grass.

Bobby blinked. “You mean, like, you hypothetically wish you were gay, because chicks right, or –,"

“I mean I’m not straight, Bob.”

Bobby blinked once. He blinked twice. He blinked three times.

He carefully lowered himself to the grass.

“Huh,” he said.

“Yup,” said Warren.

“And, uh – how’s that going for you?”

Warren laughed. “It’s going great. I’m a fan.”

“Really?” Bobby asked.

“Totally. I mean, it’s scary at first, once you realize there’s something about you that isn’t, you know, _normal_. But once you get used to it – you actually start liking it a little. It might take awhile. But it can be pretty fun, if you let it.”

Bobby snorted.

“What?” Warren asked.

“Nothing. That just sounds like being a mutant." 

Warren grinned. “I guess it does.”

 

 

Bobby thought about talking to Scott and nearly died of laughter. No way. Not in a million years.

 

 

He knocked on Jean’s door. It was still kind of early, but she was usually a pretty early riser. The only reason he didn’t see her in the kitchen, he supposed, was because she must have eaten at the crack of dawn.

There was a crash from within the room. Startled, Bobby raised his hands, ready to ice blast the hell outta whoever opened that door.

But it was only Jean. She cracked the door open the slightest bit, but Bobby could see that she was still in her pajamas and her hair was mussed, which freaked him out even more.

“Oh, Bobby, good morning,” she said, a little breathless.

“Are you okay?” Bobby asked. “Are you hurt?”

“Now isn’t really a good time –,”

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Bobby stormed into the room, icy fists at the ready, only to freeze at the sight of Scott sitting on Jean’s bed, shirtless, zipping up his pants.

Huh. Scott was way more built that Bobby had ever given him credit for. Probably more built than Warren.

And then it clicked.

“Oh, my god,” Bobby said. “Ohhhh my god.”

“Bobby –,”

Bobby rounded on Jean. “Does Professor X know? That you two are _doing it_?”

Jean rolled her eyes. “First of all, you can say sex, it’s not a dirty word. Second, Scott and I are both twenty-one – we don’t need Professor X’s permission for how we choose to express our affection. And third, we weren’t _doing_ anything!”

“Not right now, sure,” said Bobby. “But you were probably gearing up for round two! Or ten, by the looks of your hair.”

Jean frowned. “What’s wrong with my hair? Scott, what’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing, sweetheart, your hair looks fine,” Scott said, but Jean must not have believed him because random items in the room began to levitate as she searched for a mirror.

Bobby covered his eyes with hands. Catching Scott and Jean in the act was almost like catching his parents. It was very, very wrong.

Jean must have found her mirror because she said, “My hair does not look that bad, you overdramatic child.”

Bobby was about to respond when another crash came from inside Jean’s closet. Bobby, Jean, and Scott all looked at each other. And then they took off running. 

Bobby won, with the help of a little ice slide. He skidded to a stop before the door and flung it open.

Warren Worthington III stood with nothing but a stuffed teddy bear covering his junk from the whole world.

“Heyyyy, Bobby,” said Warren.

Bobby looked from Warren to Jean to Scott. All three of them seemed determined not to meet anyone else’s eyes.

“You know what?” Bobby said. “I don’t need your advice. No one in this mansion appears to have anything figured out at all.”

And Bobby left Jean Grey’s bedroom, hopefully never to return again.

 

 

“I’ll get it!” Bobby called when the doorbell rang, even though no one else seemed concerned.

He opened the door and there stood Johnny Storm.

“Johnny!” Bobby said, a manic grin stretching across his face.

Johnny smiled back, just as wide. “Bobby.”

Bobby reached out and took Johnny’s hand. Johnny only had a moment to look surprised before Bobby was dragging him through the mansion.

“We’ll be in my room!” Bobby called to his four friends, as they watched _The Incredibles_ in the lounge.

“Keep the door open,” Scott said, and the other three cracked up. Bobby rolled his eyes even as he blushed.

Bobby pulled Johnny into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He hoped they all heard it.

“What was that about?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing,” said Bobby. “They’re all dorks.”

He sat on his bed and privately thrilled when Johnny sat on the other end.

“I know how that is,” said Johnny. “Reed’s going through a phase where he thinks it’s freaking hilarious to say stupid dad jokes all the time. I totally hate him.”

Even as he said it, a smile tugged at his lips. Bobby smiled too.

“Hank’s into scaring people,” Bobby said. “He likes hanging upside down from things or popping out of weird spaces. But he is, like, _so_ not sneaky. So we pretend to be scared because we feel bad.”

Johnny laughed and the sound sent butterflies fluttering through Bobby’s stomach.

“Sue liked to scare me when we were little, but then she made me cry, so she stopped. Thank god. It’d be a lot worse if she could have turned invisible.”

“Aw, you cried? That’s so _cute_.”

“Shut up! I was, like, four years old!” Johnny reached over to shove him and Bobby let himself be pushed, even though it wasn’t that good a shove. He latched onto Johnny’s wrist and pulled him so that he landed with an _oof_ on top of Bobby.

“Oh, God,” Bobby moaned, rubbing his side where Johnny’s elbow snagged him. “That was a lot sexier in my head.”

Johnny blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Bobby looked into Johnny’s eyes, which were even prettier up close. His stomach squirmed. He wanted to kiss a boy. This boy. Johnny.

So he did.

His lips were soft and his skin was smooth and it wasn’t that different than the few times Bobby had kissed girls, except for the way it lit his whole body on fire.

Kind of funny, since he didn’t know he could feel heat anymore. 

Johnny pulled back. Bobby’s eyes fluttered open to see Johnny with wet lips and something like wonder on his face.

“I’m trying to figure out if I’m gay,” Bobby blurted. He cringed “That sounded bad. I don’t mean I’m _using you_ to figure out if I’m gay, I mean that I am currently, in my life, trying to figure out if I’m gay. Kissing you might be helpful, but it’s also pretty unrelated. I kissed you because I wanted to. Kiss you, that is. Not figure out if I'm gay. Which I'm also trying to do.”

For a moment, Johnny was expressionless. And then he smirked. “Trying to figure out if you’re gay, huh? What are the results so far?”

Slowly, Bobby grinned. 

“Inconclusive,” he said, and kissed him again.

 

 

Bobby waved goodbye as Johnny’s flaming form arced into the night. He hummed to himself as he went back into the mansion.

He walked past the lounge, where his teammates had moved onto a new movie _._ He stopped and walked back.

“By the way, I’m gay,” he told them. 

“Good for you,” said Hank and Jean said, “Bobby, we’re so proud of you,” and Scott said, “That takes some guts, man” and Warren reached over to high five him.

Feeling on top of the world, Bobby walked halfway back to his room. It was then that his whole body lifted off the floor and floated back to the lounge. Jean wedged him in between herself and Hank on the sofa.

“You didn’t think you’d get off that easy, did you?” she asked, ruffling his hair.

“It is movie night, Robert,” said Hank, clapping him on the back with too much force.

“We let you miss _The Incredibles,”_ Scott said, snuggling underneath Warren’s arm. “But _A Bug’s Life_ is my favorite.”

“Pixar ride or die, baby,” said Warren, pecking Scott on the cheek.

Bobby groaned, but he made himself comfortable. There was no escaping his family, so he might as well have a good time.

**Author's Note:**

> talk gay mutants to me at [tumblr](http://bipeteparker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
